i love the way that your heart breaks
with every injustice and deadly fate
The world is still today. The breeze non-existent, the birds notably absent, the leaves nearly gone from their trees. It is a skeletal world, slipping into the short death that is winter. He pays it little mind, caught up in his shuddering remembrances. He misses her already. The way her touch causes his skin to twitch and burn. The way she makes everything else disappear. But he would see her again, this he does not doubt. He could not bear anything less.
He is in that place again, the place he had met his first friend (though the term ‘friend’ could be applied loosely. They were closer to acquaintances). He does not know why he is back, other than the fact that it is familiar. He knows only her and this place. He might have been exploring, discovering the nooks and crannies of this land, but he is not. He is here instead, lackluster gray eyes staring out across the uninspiring land of grit and bark.
His insipid gaze catches upon the group. They are hard to miss amongst the bland backdrop. One blazes as bright as the sun, gold pelt glimmering in the harsh rays of that aforementioned orb. The second is garishly purple, standing out even against the golden girl by his side. The third is nearly as innocuous as he, the only inspiring element about him being his pale tresses. Even so, compared this odd looking trio, the black colt is a sore thumb, a bit of coal attempting to pass itself off as a diamond. His coat is solid black, ragged tufts of hair clinging to a bony frame. He is in that awkward stage of youth, his lanky frame broadening and growing, yet lacking the muscle definition to fill out his form properly. He is all awkward angles and lean scruffiness.
This does not deter him however. He does not mind being the odd duck. Rather enjoys it, actually. He steps forward, gray eyes flitting between the three figures. He does not smile, nor does he frown. In fact, his expression shows little more than mild interest. Muttering under his breath, he gaze follows the line of horses. ”Gold duck, purple duck, gray duck. Guess who is who.”
Perhaps she had affected more than he initially though. More loudly, loud enough everyone to hear, he adds only ”Raelynx.” An introduction, of sorts.
Raelynx
khaos x eyrie